


Nepenthe

by Asreoniplier (AsreonInfusion)



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Consentacles, Human/Monster Romance, Other, POV First Person, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 02:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsreonInfusion/pseuds/Asreoniplier
Summary: The shift of shadows from the corner disturbs me; the dungeon is not so empty as I had thought. But there is nothing here that I fear would harm me, so long as I keep my place, and the creature that emerges curiously is one I am familiar with.Nepenthe, one of the resident void creatures, and a pet of Dark’s.He is a relatively new being, still a little unfamiliar, and—he is like Dark, in a way. Of course he is like Dark; the creature has both a mind of his own, and yet is also an extension of Dark and Dark’s will. He is fascinating, alluring… pleasant, even charming, as long as you do not give him a reason to take offence.[SPOILER: I'm going to fuck the void octopus.]





	Nepenthe

**Author's Note:**

> …
> 
> … Look. Listen. I can explain.
> 
> (I can’t. My only explanation is that I’m me, and honestly what do you expect.)
> 
> A small amount of context is required for this one. There is a server I’m part of, run by Dark [@darkipli3r]. And on that server there is a void octopus that inhabits the manor (he’s actually just an emoji we have). We named him Nepenthe.
> 
> That is what this fic is about.
> 
> _Someone_ had to fuck the void octopus eventually.
> 
> <strike>Me. It was me. Of course it was me. I’m the only one with permission. (And I did actually ask if it was okay to write (and share) this, lol.)</strike>
> 
> WARNINGS: Tentacle porn with octo monster creature, implied Dark/Reader with D/s undertones. 1st person POV, afab!reader.

The manor is quiet. A peaceful sort of quiet, but lonely. There are better things to do than to wander the hallways restlessly, both seeking company and hoping not to find it at the same time, but that is what I find myself doing.

I pass by the ballroom without looking in, wandering towards the more private rooms in the depths of the manor. The gardens, the aviary. Time in a strange and nebulous thing here, but it is night – not for me, but for enough of the manor that it is dim and silent outside. The vibrant sprawl of flowers lit by the pale glow of moonlight, a few stray butterflies of a more nocturnal nature flitting amongst the roses.

It is lovely, but—a little too lovely. The restlessness gnaws in the back of my mind still. That I ought do something, that I haven’t been enough over the past few days. Too snippy, too harsh with some of those in the ballroom. No one else even remembers or cares, most likely, but ruminations of mistakes and misplaced words fester in the empty space of nights like tonight.

Perhaps that is what drives me to the other area of the manor I consider my home.

Of course, the dungeon is empty as well, but I sit on the steps leading down into it and rest my head against the wall. Let my mind wander to more pleasant things; looking around here, there are bound to be distractions.

The shift of shadows from the corner disturbs my musings; the dungeon is not so empty as I had thought. Though the tension of the moment is short-lived. There is nothing here that I fear would harm me, so long as I keep my place, and the creature that emerges curiously is one I am familiar with.

Nepenthe, one of the resident void creatures, and a pet of Dark’s.

I smile; he is the best company. I am not alone, yet nor do I need to worry about the pressure of talking to another person when I would rather be left to my own thoughts.

“Hello,” I murmur, a quiet greeting in acknowledgement.

I do not make any move towards him, and yet the moment I know he is there, my attention keeps drifting back to where he resides.

Nepenthe is a relatively new being, still a little unfamiliar, and—he is like Dark, in a way. Of course he is like Dark; the creature has both a mind of his own, and yet is also an extension of Dark and Dark’s will. He is fascinating, alluring… pleasant, even charming, as long as you do not give him a reason to take offence.

Nepenthe does not like to be touched. I have not seen it happen yet, but I have certainly heard Dark describe the consequences, should Nepenthe be unduly disturbed. They are—quite violent.

And yet.

I have permission, the only one thus far to be granted it. I’ve even played a little before with him; just gentle touches, just petting him to see what a void octopus could possibly feel like.

(His tentacles feel all too _familiar_, very much like the ones Dark is capable of creating. Perhaps just a little softer.)

And I _do_ have permission…

Although I know there is no one else around, I can’t help but glance around the dungeon again to check I am alone; as if anyone could have read my thoughts or judged me for wondering exactly how far my permissions extended. I might have asked about that, actually. I might have been… would ‘encouraged’ be quite the right word?

_“Yo͞u ̴c͞an **pl͢ay **wi̕th̴ h̨im,” _and _“I̷ ͟c̵o͟mm͞and ̵you͞ ͢t̡o̴ use͞ ̡him͟ as̷ yơu ̶wi̢ll̷.͏”_

Yeah. Dark had said _that_. Amongst other things.

And now I see Nepenthe, and I see tentacles, and I see a creature with the same energy as Dark, and—I am drawn to him. I can’t deny some part of me wants to see just how far I’m allowed to take this.

The other part of me knows I can take it as far as I want.

With slightly shaky steps, I move deeper into the dungeon, allowing the door to close firmly behind me.

I can feel heat staining my cheeks; ashamed by my own thoughts, embarrassed to recall all the teasing from… earlier incidents in the dungeon. The things that were said about Nepenthe, about the things those tentacles could do—to me, specifically. And worse, knowing I would let them. Knowing I would _want_ it.

I kneel down in front of him and stretch out my hand. “Hey, Nepenthe.”

The void creature reaches out in turn, one of his tentacles butting against my palm. It reminds me of a cat, butting its head against its owner for attention, and I grin. Nepenthe is sweet, really.

I let my fingers lightly stroke down the offered tentacle; he does feel soft. Smooth, almost velvety, yet just from the way it moves and roils it’s obvious there’s an incredible amount of strength and power in the limb. He is the deep, devouring dark navy of the ocean depths, with lighter grey on the underside of his tentacles, and he has the same glow of red and cyan aura around him as Dark does.

“You’re so lovely, aren’t you?” I coo. I’m not sure how much he understands; enough, certainly. He may not speak, but there is a fierce intelligence about him. And again, I can’t forget… he may have a mind of his own, but Nepenthe is also an extension of Dark, in a way.

That makes me falter—he’s an extension of Dark. If I do this, Dark will _know_. That I am certain of. Dark’s presence in the manner is near enough omnipotent; if he’s not already watching, he will be aware of everything through his connection to his pet. One way or another, he’ll find out.

He said I could. He commanded me to. Does he… _want_ to see? Would it please him? To have his little puppet laid bare, debased and defiled by this creature he commands?

I want to please Dark. I want to allow Nepenthe to have fun. I—I _do_ want to experience it myself, I’ll admit that. So is it wrong to ask for this to happen?

That tentacle of Nepenthe’s returns the favour, wrapping around my wrist while the tip of it delicately strokes the back of my hand, and the creature makes a little trilling noise.

The sound I make is one of surprise, but also far from innocent. His grip is—so perfect. Gentle, comforting, tight enough that I can feel the pressure of it, but there’s nothing harsh in the touch. And yet at the same time I can feel the strength behind it, and I know that I wouldn’t be able to escape at all from that hold unless Nepenthe chose to let me go.

He really does remind me of Dark.

My breath catches in my throat, and I have to force myself to let out a shaky breath. More of the tentacles are reaching out; sliding along my legs, tugging at my other wrist too now.

“Yeah, you wanna play?” I say softly. Dark had said that Nepenthe would do anything I asked of him— “I’d like to play,” I add. “If you would.”

Nepenthe trills again. His eyes are as black as the void, set deep amongst the inky skin that renders them almost invisible, but I could almost swear he’s looking at me with something that is a little too much like interest for a void creature.

I squeak a little as a tentacle wraps around my waist and lifts me; not far, just setting me back so I’m sat on my rear with my legs splayed out in front of me instead of kneeling. It leaves me far more open for being explored by Nepenthe’s tentacles.

The sensation of them curling around me makes me bite my lip. I’ve always been weak for bondage, and this is—this is living bondage, tight and powerful, like being pinned down but _worse_ (by which, of course, I mean better) because it can be everywhere at once.

Nepenthe shifts forwards as his tentacles reach out, rising higher in the process. He is not at all a small creature. Like this he _looms_ over me, and something churns in my gut; fear, but a thrill as well, and it makes me squirm in the creature’s grip.

Which only causes him to tighten his hold, as if I were trying to get away… and he is very much not going to let me.

“Oh, god,” I breathe. It’s starting to hit me exactly what I’ve got myself in for.

Anticipation sings through my veins, face flushing. More of his tentacles are sliding up my thighs, beneath my dress. One or two flick at the fabric, as if Nepenthe is confused – perhaps irritated – by its presence.

His touch is all over me. The tentacles wrapped tight around my wrists and shoulders and ankles, binding me firmly. The ones exploring me; feather-light touches that make me quiver, almost ticklish, mixed with firm, possessive grasps that make my breath catch.

Maybe he’s just curious. Maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing to me—because, fuck, it is doing things to me, to be helplessly pinned and teased, by tentacles of all things.

I have a thing for tentacles. A lot of us here do. And Dark damn well knows it; he’d probably just be standing there, _smirking_, if he could see what his pet was up to.

(A little voice in my head reminds me, _who’s to say he can’t_, and the thought sends a shiver of mixed arousal and shame through me.)

I could almost have believed it, that it was just curiosity, that Nepenthe was just a creature of the void with no real care for the nature of what he was doing. But there is nothing accidental about the way the tentacles slide beneath my dress to cup and knead at my breasts, or another hooks beneath the crotch of my underwear.

“Nepenthe—!” I choke.

Why am I protesting? I wanted this. I asked for it.

I want it.

Oh, god, I want it.

To let this creature – of Dark’s creation, of Dark’s control, that is itself an _extension _of Dark – use me and consume me and lay me bare for Dark’s amusement.

He even feels like Dark. Not the same, of course; Nepenthe is still distinctly his own creature. Yet… it’s a touch of his presence, how the tentacles feel so similar the ones Dark uses, the soft static that tingles against my skin and crawls through my veins at his touch.

The soft static tightening around my mind, leaving me shivering and dizzy. So pliant, so eager.

I find myself moaning, the sound of it starting to turn embarrassingly needy, as Nepenthe’s tentacles find the zip of my dress. It wasn’t at all planned, wearing this particular dress today… but that it’s one so easy to remove is a convenient coincidence. All it takes is for one of the tentacles to drag the zip at the front all the way down, and then the fabric falls aside easily.

He pushes me back. Hands bound above and behind my head, the tentacles holding them dragging my wrists further back so I’m hardly even siting anymore… more like laid out on the floor for him. Only not quite on the floor, thanks to the tentacles supporting my back, but I’m not sure whether that’s better or worse given the way the position forces me to arch up until I’m so very much on display.

It’s not—it’s not _rough_, that’s not quite it. But Nepenthe seems to be growing more… eager. Enthusiastic, and a little careless of his strength. I yelp as he tears right through my underwear in the attempt to get it off; the sound quickly morphs into a moan as his tentacles spread my thighs.

I desperately wish I could cover my face with my hands; it feels like my cheeks are burning, flushed a brilliant crimson.

I can’t stop thinking about those words from last night – how thick those tentacles would be, how they’d fill me, how I would feel them _writhing_. Hearing it then was bad enough. Now, on the cusp of finding out for real, the anticipation feels like it will drive me out of my mind.

Dark had said Nepenthe would do anything I asked of him…

“Please,” I beg softly. Still so self-conscious, even when there’s no one else around. Oh, _god_. The tentacles are stroking against the inside of my thighs, and one sliding between my legs with just enough pressure to make me want to rock against it, and all that comes out when I open my mouth again is a whimper.

In me. I want it in me. I don’t want to have to _admit_ it, but—

Matters of attraction and all else aside, my body is still perfectly capable of responding to physical stimulation, and… the tentacles are doing plenty of that. The thought of them taking me completely is making me ache.

“Nepenthe…”

_‘Dark,_’ my mind says instead.

I breathe out shakily. “Fuck me.”

Nepenthe makes that little noise of his again, but lower now. The sound is something foreign, alien – coming from a creature of the void and all – yet it if I had to call it anything compared to the sounds I heard from him before, I might call it almost a purr.

The tentacle between my legs drags back down; more purposefully this time, and agonisingly slow. Until just the tip of it is there, teasing against my slick entrance.

My pulse is echoing in my ears, breaths quick and uneven. Instinct drives me to squirm, as if that could lessen any of the heat and want and need prickling beneath my skin—of course I should know better, and of course the constriction of the tentacles only tightens until I can’t move at all.

Then it eases its way inside me, and I can’t hold back a trembling moan.

Again, Nepenthe isn’t exactly rough. Just—intense. And big. The tentacles are powerful, and _thick_; the deeper the one in me sinks, the more the base widens, and the more it stretches me open until I can barely take it.

Splitting me open. Laying me bare.

Just like promised.

I let my head fall back, only able to whimper and pant as the tentacle fills me, fingers clenching into fists as I struggle to take it. The tip of the tentacle curls inside, wrapping around itself to make room for more, and I can _feel_ it and—

“Fuck!” I choke. “Oh, fuck, fuck…”

He’s going to ruin me. Hold me down and fuck me until I can’t think straight, leave me a trembling wreck, a mess on the dungeon floor for Dark to find like that.

Oh. Oh, no.

I shouldn’t have let that thought bubble up in my mind. Because now I’m thinking about Dark again, and, as Nepenthe thrusts the tentacle into me, all I can remember is the whole _extension of Dark_ deal.

He’s going to see this.

He’s going to find out somehow.

He _knows_. He always knows.

And I’m wrapped up in inky black tentacles, arching and trembling and gasping as another of them fucks me, while the void creature makes it’s low, alien little trill.

It feels good. The tentacle is so thick… every time it rocks into me, deep and slow but not at all gentle, it rubs firmly against every sensitive spot inside. And the way it _moves_, curling and writhing…

All I can do is surrender. It is all I can _ever_ do—I am Dark’s, I am his to use however he pleases, for his pet to use how _he_ pleases. Surrender. To them, to the pleasure, to the white noise in my head. Let him in let him in let him in—

I clench my eyes shut, head falling back helplessly and lips parted with soft little cries as Nepenthe ravages me. Over, and over, and over, until my entire world is narrowed down to heat and need, the tight, static pressure of the tentacles holding me helplessly in place, and that _presence_.

Nepenthe… _Dark_…

Feels good, sir. Feels so, so good. Feels like I’m going to break, almost more than I can take, but I’ll take anything for you.

It’s impossible to hold on to any sense of time; all I know is that I’ve cum twice and been reduced to a sweat-slick, fucked out mess by the time Nepenthe is done with me. I whimper as the tentacle slides free, my own slick spilling down my thighs, and the ones binding my wrists and ankles and legs finally loosen.

I don’t think I can move.

I sink limply to the floor with the support of the tentacles, flushed and shaky and satisfied. My breaths come in rapid gulps, and I groan at the ache in my strained and abused body.

I need to move at some point… need to get myself cleaned up and redressed before anyone else can come in. But. Not just yet.

Nepenthe is still there, and I coo softly for him again and turn my head to rest against a tentacle. My trembling fingers find another and stroke along the length of it.

“Good boy,” I mumble. “Thank you… was good.”

He slides his tentacles across me, softly enough to feel like a caress. It takes a moment to realise, my overheated brain not quite up to focusing again just yet, but he’s dragged several of them over me like a blanket. The soft chill of them is quite pleasant, after the exertion, and there’s something lulling and comfortably familiar in the brush of the staticky aura around him.

I smile softly and laugh; Dark did say Nepenthe had a pleasant temperament, and for a void creature he’s been very sweet. If anything about a good tentacle fucking can be called sweet.

“You’re a cutie, aren’t you? You don’t mind if I just… stay here a while, do you?”

I can only assume the small rumbling noise and slight squeeze of his tentacles means he doesn’t.


End file.
